Your Naked Magic, Oh Dear Lord
by rayychel infinity
Summary: Blaine just laughs, looks up over the silver body of the camera. His eyebrows rise, and he says, "No matter what you tell me, Kurt Hummel, we are still going to make this tape. You are going to look as gorgeous as you always do."


**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from "Where Did The Party Go" by Fall Out Boy.

Filled for the Glee Kink Meme: Kurt and Blaine make a sex tape, then jerk off to it. Dirty talk, mild comeplay, mild spanking, barebacking, mutual masturbation (obvs).

Tumblr is here (endofadream)

* * *

"Let's make a sex tape."

It's the last thing Kurt would have expected Blaine to say while Kurt's pants and underwear are down around his thighs and Blaine's palm is broad over his straining cock. He sits up with a "_What?_" that sounds a lot less incredulous than he feels, and he struggles to catch his breath as Blaine looks at him with wide, earnest eyes, the pupils dilated and dark.

"Let's make a sex tape." Blaine says it again, lips curling around the words like they're a particular delicacy. He squeezes Kurt's cock and Kurt can't help but groan and arch into it. "No one's going to be home for hours." He leans in, trails his tongue along the shell of Kurt's ear, and Kurt shivers, swallowing audibly as Blaine whispers, "And I really, really want to see what I look like with your cock buried in my ass."

"Blaine, holy _shit_." Kurt blushes furiously, but he can't deny the zigzagging spark of _want_ that those words shot through him. "Someone could find it, or-or-or—" He flounders for an excuse but comes up with none, and Blaine grins devilishly, pushing down Kurt's boxer-briefs to take his cock in hand.

"No one will find it," he assures, dragging his thumb over the smooth tip, the indent of the slit. "I'll put it on my laptop and hide it. No one will ever know that it's there." He twists his wrist and strokes and Kurt moans, pleasure curling insistently in little hot sparks.

He wants to say no, that it's a dumb idea, what if they look _bad_, but he knows, also, that he's always been curious to know what they—_look like_. Blaine is gorgeous when Kurt's fucking him, all scrunched nose and eyes, beautifully swollen lax lips, a body that moves however Kurt wants it to. He knows these things, because he can see them. But Blaine can't.

And like Blaine's read his mind, he smiles and whispers, "And you always look so amazing when you're fucking me and making me take it."

Kurt breaks, then, and he's gasping out, "Yes, fuck, _okay_, yes."

Blaine's video camera is fairly new and very high-def, and Kurt stares at it, intimidated, as Blaine sets it up on the tripod and fiddles with it until it's pointed at an angle he likes. He's still in his underwear, and so is Kurt, though he'd pulled his back up when Blaine had gone off in search of the camera.

"I don't know about this," he says, that uncertainty coming back full-force. "Cameras capture everything, Blaine. _Everything_. I mean, not that I'd ever watch it, but imagine what the cameras caught with Kim Kardashian." He shudders.

Blaine just laughs, looks up over the silver body of the camera. His eyebrows rise, and he says, "No matter what you tell me, Kurt Hummel, we are still going to make this tape. You are going to look as gorgeous as you always do."

Kurt sighs, and when the camera lets out a little _ding_ and a red light flashes, he feels his heart beat a little faster. Unconsciously he shifts on the bed, angling his body and sitting up a little straighter. "If you say so."

"Oh, I do." Blaine walks towards him, eyes darker and more intent than they were just a moment ago, and when he climbs onto the bed he doesn't break eye contact and Kurt doesn't either. They gravitate towards each other, seamless and practiced, and Kurt winds his arms around Blaine's waist as he kisses him.

It quickly moves from slow and languid to messy and heated, and Kurt flushes at the sound of their lips smacking and sliding wetly together. He groans when Blaine's tongue slides into his mouth, and groans again when Blaine's hand tangles in his hair and tugs, gentle.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Kurt says with a breathless giggle. His fingers tap over the cotton of Blaine's underwear stretched over the swell of his ass, and after another moment's hesitation he slides his hand down, squeezes and smiles when Blaine gasps.

Blaine returns the giggle when he regains his composure and leans in to kiss Kurt again. "I can't, either. It's gonna be so hot." Kisses him, teeth sharp against Kurt's lower lip, and says, "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Kurt admits. But he still feels his cock hardening against his thigh again, knows that Blaine has to feel it, too, because Kurt can feel Blaine's cock hard against his thigh. "But I'm really excited, too."

The bed dips and shifts under Kurt's knees as Blaine moves in again, kissing down Kurt's jaw and to the soft, sensitive skin of his neck. Kurt gasps, biting down on his lower lip, and lets his head fall back. One of Blaine's broad palms comes up, rubs over his nipple, and Kurt gasps again, hips seeking forward, when Blaine pinches it between two fingers. "God, Blaine."

"Touch me," Blaine whispers, hushed and hurried. He goes for Kurt's wrist but Kurt is already reaching between them, rubbing over Blaine's cock before pushing down the waistband of his underwear and taking him in hand. Blaine's forehead drops to Kurt's shoulder, and his body trembles, hips fucking forward. "Yeah, that's it. Fuck, Kurt, just like that, baby. Touch my cock just like that."

"Greedy," Kurt murmurs, running his other hand down the smooth slope of Blaine's back. His skin tingles at the thought that he's the one making Blaine feel like this and that he's going to actually _see_ it. He tugs, twists, just the way Blaine always likes it, and with the weight of the eye of the camera on them, the promise of watching it later—_together_—Kurt gently eases Blaine onto his back.

He lets go of Blaine's cock, watches it slap against his abdomen where it curves, red and thick and so very, very hard, against his navel, and tugs Blaine's underwear down his legs, hesitates only a moment before tugging his own off, too.

He bends for a kiss and Blaine meets him halfway, and it's hungry, desperate, tongues meeting before lips and lips sliding slick and uncoordinated. Blaine hikes up a leg, curls it around Kurt's thigh before letting it fall back to the bed and spread wider. His hands slide down Kurt's back, curve over the swell of Kurt's ass; he yelps when Blaine squeezes and pushes them together, the head of his cock catching on Blaine's and making him shudder and twist.

Blaine moans, low and throaty and beautiful, and the skin of his neck is slick and salty where Kurt sucks a darkening mark. He grabs Blaine's thigh, hitches it up again, and ruts his hips forward, over and over until Blaine is gasping under him, grabbing at the sheets as he arches up to meet the roll of Kurt's body.

"So good," he gasps, fitting a palm around the nape of Kurt's neck. Tugs him down, kisses him deep and dirty, and his moan vibrates against Kurt's lips, worms its way through his body. "God, feels so good."

"Want you to suck me off," Kurt says, sliding his hand until he gets to the curve of Blaine's ass. He squeezes and Blaine keens, nods, says _yes_.

They're mindful of the camera as they move, and it ends with Blaine propped up, Kurt straddling his chest as he grips onto the headboard. He looks down and Blaine looks up, Kurt's cock swaying inches from his mouth.

Kurt looks almost imperceptibly over his shoulder, makes sure that the unblinking eye of the camera has a good shot from where it is, and pushes his hips forward, groaning as the warm velvet of Blaine's tongue presses against his cock.

Blaine grips onto Kurt's thighs, and his eyes gradually close as Kurt feeds more of his cock into Blaine's mouth. The choke when Kurt hits the back of his throat is faint and hardly audible, but Blaine pushes past it, breathes out harsh and grips harder to Kurt's thighs as he relaxes his throat. His eyes water slightly when he looks up.

"Such a good boy," Kurt murmurs. "God, look at you, taking my cock down your throat." He pulls out slightly, pushes back in, and Blaine's eyes close to slits, a moan rumbling through his chest as he swallows again, hollows his cheeks.

Kurt can't help but look over at the camera again, feels a little thrill run down his spine. He can't believe that they're _doing this_, and he feels so…_daring_ and _dirty_. As he begins to gently thrust in and out of Blaine's mouth, his fingers gripping tighter to the headboard and his breath coming out in labored pants and little ragged gasps, he wonders why they haven't done this before. It seems so natural that they should have.

Blaine taps on Kurt's thigh, and Kurt looks down in alarm. He slides his cock as gently as he can from between Blaine's lips, and Blaine beats him to it, says, hoarse in a way that makes Kurt tremble, "Wanted you to fuck me." He smiles with saliva-slicked, swollen lips, and Kurt bends down, grips Blaine's chin and doesn't care how messy it is as he slides his tongue into Blaine's mouth and tastes himself.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Kurt murmurs, sucking Blaine's lower lip into his mouth.

He moves to get the lube, and his hand pauses over a strip of condoms in the drawer. He looks back, sees that Blaine has arranged himself on his back, legs spread slightly and fingers teasing the head of his cock. Kurt looks down at the condoms again, bites his lip, and shuts the drawer, lube in hand.

Blaine looks up, still grinning, and he lifts himself up on his elbows, spreads his legs a little, and begins to say, "C'mere—"

Kurt cuts him off swiftly, uncapping the lube and shaking it down towards the top. "Hands and knees."

Blaine blinks in surprise, mouth falling open in a comic little _O_, but obeys. The bed trembles, creaks and shakes as Blaine gets on his hands and knees. He looks back, wide-eyed, and Kurt just smiles as he kneels behind him.

The flesh of Blaine's ass is firm as Kurt runs his hand over it; underneath him Blaine groans, says, "_Kurt_."

"Shh." Kurt places his fingers featherlight at the top of the divide of Blaine's ass, says, "Spread your legs a little more for me, honey."

Blaine does, and Kurt bites back his groan at the sight of Blaine's dusky hole, the darker skin leading down to the bulge and swell of his balls, the hard length of his cock beyond that. He runs his hand up the tender inside of Blaine's thigh, feels the shiver as he cups Blaine's balls, then brushes over his hole.

He coats his fingers, rubs over Blaine's hole again before slowly pushing in. Blaine tightens, then relaxes, dropping his head as he groans and pushes back, sinking Kurt's finger to the last knuckle.

"You're gonna look so pretty," Kurt murmurs, half to himself. He slides his fingers out and crooks them, watches them slide back into Blaine's body, the clench of his hole swallowing them up. He bends pressing a kiss to Blaine's lower back; he darts out his tongue, points it, and trails it down between Blaine's cheeks.

"Oh fuck," Blaine whines, nasally and high. He shakes under Kurt's touch, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Kurt slides three fingers in, works them slow-slow-slow until Blaine is begging.

"Fuck me, please, fuck me." Kurt nips at a supple cheek, rubs his palm over it before slapping hard enough for the _crack_ to hover in the air and sting on Kurt's skin for a few seconds afterwards. Blaine turns his head to the side, pants, pushes his ass up and begs, "Kurt, _please_."

Kurt slides his fingers out and slicks up his cock, swallowing down his groans at the tight pull of his fist. He settles between Blaine's legs, nudging them wider, and grips Blaine's hips. He twitches forward, the blunt head of his cock nudging at Blaine's hole, a tease, and Blaine sobs out, grabs at the sheets and lets an arm bend at the elbow. "God, yes, _please_. Please please please please—"

"What do you want, B?" Kurt asks. He nudges his cock against Blaine's hole again, slides up so the slick, hard length glides between his cheeks. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me." Blaine doesn't hesitate. "I want your cock. Want you to fuck me with your big cock, Kurt. Make me come, make me scream for it."

Kurt grips the base of his cock and pushes in; under him Blaine lets out a moan of relief as each inch slides in until Kurt's bottomed out, hips flush to Blaine's ass. He drops his forehead to the space between Blaine's shoulder blades, breathes out a laugh when he slides his hand up Blaine's chest. "We're really doing this."

Blaine's laugh rumbles, strained, through Kurt's body. "We're really doing this."

"You feel so good," Kurt murmurs, pressing a kiss to the salt-slicked skin. He gently swivels his hips, feels Blaine's hole clench around him when he slides slightly out and fucks back in. "_Uh_—I love you."

"Love you. And so do—do you," Blaine grunts. "Fuck—so big, baby. Always so big."

Kurt's hand finds Blaine's, and he runs his fingers over the mountain range of knuckles, squeezes once before straightening up and gripping Blaine's hips again, pulling him closer as he pulls out and fucks back in. Blaine's skin ripples as he cries out, breathy and broken, and Kurt's quick to find a pace, keep it.

"Yes, yes, yes," Blaine pants, dropping his head and meeting Kurt's thrusts with muted slaps of skin. "Oh my _god_, right there, baby, right there—_yes_, fuck me fuck me."

Kurt shifts on the bed, changes angles, and Blaine keens when his cock brushes just right; he tosses his head back, arches, and Kurt watches the dip and tilt of his back as he brings a hand under himself, wrapping his fist loosely around his cock. "Fuck, oh _god_. Oh god, oh—_ohh_."

Kurt feels it coiling, twisting, low in his stomach, and he wets his lips, swallows hard, and doesn't warn Blaine when he slides out of him, stepping off the bed to grab the camera.

Blaine looks over, wrecked, eyes half-lidded and face flushed sex-red. He blinks, asks, "What are you doing?"

Kurt climbs back onto the bed, his heart thudding anew. Blaine's hole is red and open, inviting and slick with lube. He looks at the camera's viewfinder, positions it until it's high enough above Blaine's body to give him a good shot.

He takes his cock in one hand, rubs the slick, fat head over Blaine's hole, the divide of his ass, and says over Blaine's groan, "Just getting a better angle, sweetie."

He squeezes Blaine's cheek when he fucks back in, watching through the viewfinder as the slick length of his cock slides in and out of Blaine's hole. "I'm gonna come inside your tight ass," he groans, "and get it all on camera—_shit_."

"God, yes, yes," Blaine pants. He lets out a whine when Kurt fucks shallowly in, teasing, then repeats. "I'm so—_ah_—so close, baby. Come inside me, c'mon. Make me filthy."

Kurt squeezes Blaine's cheek again, keeps his hand there, kneading, as his hips slap against Blaine's ass. The camera moves with his body, and the quality won't be very good, he knows, but it's so _hot_ that he can't stop, wouldn't stop even if he had to.

Blaine comes before Kurt with a keening cry, his back arching before going taut; he pushes back against Kurt, clenching erratically around him, and lets his hand fall from his cock to the bed. "Oh fuck." It's a breathless, panting moan. "Oh _fuck_."

Kurt swallows hard, lets his jaw fall slack with an exhaled breath, and he fucks forward, harder and harder, the camera trained unsteadily on Blaine's ass as he finally buries himself balls-deep, comes with a low moan as his toes curl and the heat rushes and explodes, stealing his breath and seizing his body.

His hand trembles on the camera as he slides out, and he doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to even _say_ anything before Blaine is pushing it out, come trickling white from the red, swollen stretch of his hole. He turns his head, looks back through lidded eyes and says, innocently, "I feel dirty."

"That's because you _are_," Kurt says in awe, trailing his fingers featherlight over the divide of Blaine's ass, down to his perineum where come is still trickling. "Jesus, babe. You're such a filthy little boy."

Blaine hums in contentment, smiling lazily as he drops to his elbows and pushes his ass higher in the air as Kurt slips a curious finger in and more white slides out. "Mmm. Good. Only for you."

* * *

It's after a shower and dinner and reassurances that they'll be alone for at least four more hours ("It's Friday, Kurt. My parents always work until nine on Fridays.") that they decide to watch the tape that night, and it sinks in for Kurt, then, that _they have a sex tape_. He tries not to freak out, and he thinks he succeeds because Blaine doesn't say anything, but internally there are about a hundred different things happening at once and he doesn't know which one he should feel.

(He's going to see what he looks like having sex. He's going to see what _they_ look like having sex.)

Blaine hooks the camera up to his laptop and Kurt hugs a pillow to his chest, bare and exposed in just his underwear. He feels, if possible, more nervous now than he did before. Once they'd gotten into the familiar rhythm together he'd been able to mostly forget about the camera, the fact that they were actually recording it. Concentrating on Blaine had kept his own insecurities at bay.

But now, watching it—there _is_ nothing to concentrate on. There's just him and Blaine and themselves on the computer and god this is really _happening_, the video is starting and he's shirtless and then Blaine is shirtless and they're _kissing_, more heated and pornographic than Kurt had ever imagined. He feels himself blush as Blaine settles on the bed beside him, pulling the pillow from Kurt's grasp and tossing it on the floor.

"Uh-uh," he says, raising his eyebrows. "There will be no erection-hiding while we watch this."

"I wasn't—" Kurt begins to say, affronted, but then Blaine's hand is on his lap, warm and heavy through the soft cotton of his briefs, and Kurt looks over, sees Blaine's cock hardening in his briefs. He hears himself moan on camera, and he looks over, sees Blaine kissing down his neck. His head is tossed back, his eyes are closed, and he looks—

"Beautiful," Blaine says, soft and hushed and reverent. "You always look so beautiful like that, Kurt."

Then he's touching Blaine on camera, Blaine's head against his shoulder, his cock a barely-visible flash between their bodies and the circle of Kurt's hand. Blaine's groans, though tinny, sound even deeper coming from his laptop speakers, and Kurt feels the heat curl low in his stomach, feels his cock begin to stir. Blaine's moved his hand, placing it high up on Kurt's thigh, and Kurt reciprocates, rubbing over the soft cotton of Blaine's underwear.

Gradually, the unease begins to melt away; the more turned on Kurt gets, the more he lets go, and by the time both of them are naked on screen, their bodies moving seamlessly in a way that makes Kurt's eyebrows rise and shortens his breath, he's cupping Blaine through his underwear, thumbing over the head until Blaine bucks up and groans.

"Kurt," Blaine says, voice pinched. Kurt looks over, sees his jaw set, the tendons stark on his neck.

Onscreen, Blaine is taking Kurt's cock down his throat, and Kurt flushes, his cock throbbing at the sight of Blaine's cheeks so hollowed, his lips stretched so wide. He's so gorgeously obscene, so eager to please and sexily demure, and he's all _Kurt's_.

Kurt moves his hand back to his own lap; he hesitates and lifts his hips, pushing his underwear down and off. His cock falls against his abdomen, and Blaine looks over, dark-eyed and part-lipped. He palms his own dick, pressing with the heel of his hand and rubbing, spreading his legs wider as on screen he makes the wet sucking noises that always make Kurt shiver in just the right way.

"I love the way you sound when you're sucking my dick," Kurt groans, tipping his head back. He wraps his fist dry around his cock, ignores the slight catch of the drag as he pumps himself. "You get so…so _slutty_ when you want it."

There's a rustle, and Kurt looks over to see Blaine taking off his own underwear, crumpling it up and tossing it across the room. He leans over, grabs the lube from the nightstand, and Kurt watches the ripple of his back muscles, dampens his lips with his tongue as he remembers how those feel under his hands as Blaine is working hard and fast into him—

A _crack_ through the speakers, the slick sound of Blaine's hand over his cock and his deepened, rough voice as he says, "Why haven't we tried spanking before? That felt—_fuck_, it felt so good, Kurt."

A sharp spark through Kurt's heart, down to his cock in his head, and he bites his lip, breathes out a laugh. The back of his neck heats up as he listens to the sound of Blaine's hand over his dick, Blaine's moaning through the speakers as Kurt fingers him. They've never done this, never watched porn together—they've jerked off together, tangled in sheets during dark nights, but never like this, never to _themselves_.

Kurt loves the way Blaine's hand looks wrapped around his dick, how the flushed head peeks out from the broad curl of his fingers, how he twists his wrist on every upstroke and squeezes on every down stroke. He turns his head to the side, watches the slack of Blaine's jaw as he moans, the flex of his muscles as he moves his arm.

He's fucking Blaine onscreen, smooth, even strokes that drive Blaine crazy, and he knows, soon, he's going to get the camera and there will be the shot of Blaine's ass.

He leans over, kisses Blaine, and Blaine surges into it, whines and cups Kurt's jaw. His tongue is thick and slippery in Kurt's mouth, and his teeth are sharp on Kurt's lip. "You're so fucking hot," he gasps, strung-out and wrecked. Kisses Kurt again, sloppy-dirty, sucking on lips and tongues as Kurt tilts his head, opens his mouth a little wider and strokes his dick once, twice.

They break apart with a wet sucking sound, and Kurt picks up the lube from where Blaine had dropped it, slicks up his hand and grasps his dick again. The camera moves, fuzzes, and—"Shit," Blaine murmurs.

"Told you it was a better angle," Kurt says, and Blaine laughs, breathy and breaking.

The heat surges, ebbs, and Kurt arches up, panting, says, "I—I'm gonna come."

"Me too." Blaine kisses the slope of Kurt's shoulder, works his hand faster over his dick. Kurt watches through lazy eyes, blinks as onscreen he comes, as Blaine pushes out without asking, Kurt's come a thin line trailing from the used red of his hole.

Kurt fucks up into his fist and comes in hot streaks, his cock pulsing in his hand as come splashes over his chest and hand. He works himself through it, gasping for breath, and slumps back against the sheets, feeling hot and cold all at once.

Blaine grunts, low and barely audible, and the bed creaks slightly as he twitches, arches up, and comes with a great shuddering gasp, head digging back into the pillows and jaw dropped wide as his cock pulses in his hand.

A clock ticks as they lay in silence, Kurt's heart pounding loud and fast in his chest. He wonders if he should take another shower before he goes home.

Blaine finally says, "Oh my _god_."

Kurt chuckles, smiling as he closes his eyes. "'Oh my god' is right."

The sheets rustle, and Kurt opens his eyes to see Blaine on his side, honey eyes warm and wide and trained on Kurt. Kurt shifts, takes Blaine's hand and rubs his thumb over Blaine's knuckles.

"We're really attractive," Blaine says, lips quirking up. His hair is loose and curly from the shower earlier, and Kurt lifts a hand to push some of the curls off of Blaine's forehead. "I think we could make a lot of money off of this."

Kurt smacks his shoulder but smiles anyway. "No way. You're mine, and I am not sharing you with the world."

Blaine shivers, pupils dilating slightly. "Say it again."

Kurt raises a brow but says, "You're mine."

Kurt thinks he should protest when Blaine straddles his hips and pushes him down into the sheets, but they still have an hour before Kurt has to go home. That's more than enough.


End file.
